


Starkly and Crate

by Rodge



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: (neither of them are actually idiots), 99th ravager clan, Gen, Yondu Is Fine Because I Said So, also check out these sweet ravager headcanons, it's pre-slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodge/pseuds/Rodge
Summary: Two idiots go on a mission, fuck up a lot, and forgive each other.





	Starkly and Crate

 

This mission is two things: a way for Stakar to scope out what Yondu is still capable of after all this years and, much as it pains Yondu to admit it, a _bonding exercise_.

Stakar seems to have gotten it into his head that the two of them need to _get closer_ , as if it's not enough that after his (in hindsight, actually very embarrassing) emotional sacrifice, Stakar finally deigned to actually take notice of all the years of contrition and repentance and outright desperate _begging_ , and generously allowed Yondu to come crawling back to him. No, he's decided he has to go a step further than that and be _nice_. Relearn Yondu like he's learned all of the other 98 not-them captains. Like they wouldn't still be perfectly in-sync if Stakar had just _listened to him_ all those years ago...

Not that Yondu is bitter or anything.

It's the kind of job they did a million times when Yondu was still learning, the kind he could have done in his sleep by the time Stakar pinned his captain's badge on him, the kind he once _did_ do practically in his sleep after a particularly intense drinking session.

Aleta is there to see Stakar off with a kiss, and out of respect for her (woman can outfly him without even trying, and wouldn't hesitate to make a strafing run just to shoot his balls off), Yondu waits to make the vomiting noises until she's gone. It's made harder when she holds out a bar of some kind of gross candy and Stakar smiles, takes a bite and hands it back for her to finish the rest, because _come on, Stakar, quit slavering over your wife for ten seconds_.

(It's a Ravager thing. Food is valuable and treats scarce, so everyone tends to get a little twitchy about it, unless they really really like the other guy. Stakar and Aleta have been married for longer than Quill's been alive and are long-lived enough they'll probably still be married when he dies, and they delight in being uncomfortably intimate, sharing food without even thinking about it. Sometimes they even _feed each other by hand_ _._ It's  _hideous.)_

For a second, Yondu finds himself thinking that Aleta doesn't even like sweet things, but _he_ does, so if Stakar was gonna pass it to anyone- aaaaaaand that thought's gonna be blasted out of the sky like it’s a Nova ship, because _no no no that's terrible Yondu quit it._

* * *

 

Actually, Yondu needs to revise his earlier thoughts. This mission is _three_ things: A way for Stakar to scope out what Yondu is still capable of after all these years; a bonding exercise; and, most of all, a total flarkin' clusterfuck. Already.

Stakar is insisting that he can pilot them where they need to be going, which is obviously _absolute shit_ because Stakar isn't the greatest of pilots on a good day. Yondu is, and he's actually not overinflating himself for once, a far superior pilot in every way, and Stakar is mad because he knows it.

“It's not where your strengths lie, and that's okay,” Yondu says soothingly, and this is something he's heard Aleta use before, right down to the words, and that has _worked_ , so there's really no reason for it not to work now.

“You're too easily distracted,” Stakar grits out, absolutely refusing to move from the pilot's seat. “You'll fly us into a sun.”

“That only happened once,” Yondu protests, switching control to the co-pilot's panel. “and we corrected our course immediately. I can fly and you _know_ I can, and this mission is meant to be about me anyway, so let me _do my job_.”

Stakar shakes his head, dragging control back to his panel and locking it there. “Not yet. Maybe on the way back, if you behave.”

Yondu is pretty sure the sound of his teeth grinding is audible, but he sits back, like a ~good boy~, and waits for Stakar to crash them into a meteor or something.

He plays Quill's music all the way there, because he finds the perfect song to fit with the way Stakar flies. He's gonna take 'em riiiight intoooo the danger zooooone... By the time they get there Stakar is the one grinding his teeth, and Yondu regrets nothing.

* * *

 

The next problem might, a little bit, be Yondu's fault. He's known Stakar intimately for long enough to know damn well that Stakar, deep in his own head, is a little sensitive about a few things: his height, his build, his piloting skills (among a few other skills _ifyouknowwhathemeans_ ), and his intelligence. He has also known himself intimately for long enough to know that he is an irritating little shit who pushes people's buttons like they're all red and shiny and labelled “DO NOT PUSH”. So, while Stakar accepts his idea for an infiltration being the best way to get inside this fancy house, they naturally run into a problem when Yondu attempts to define roles.

“Obviously I'll be the businessman,” Yondu says, because obviously he will, “and you'll be my bodyguard.” He's far too used to taking Kraglin on these things, who doesn't have the imposing physical stature but who has the gun and the smile and the _willingness to play along_ , because he's actually surprised when Stakar shakes his head firmly.

“I'm not the bodyguard,” he says, continuing to study the layout of the place. They've walked around this estate twice now, while Stakar figures out how it all relates to the blueprints he'll have memorised before they came out. “I know better than you what we're meant to be selling, and what we want in return. I'm the negotiator.”

“No, see,” Yondu explains patiently. “This is an infiltration, right? Appearances are important. I can look like a businessman, I'm all exotic and sleazy and shit. You? Do not look like a negotiator.” He breezes through the slow darkening of Stakar's expression, because he'll _get_ it if he just listens, and also it's really funny. “You look like a boxer, you look like you hit people for a living. You work better as dumb muscle. So, I pretend to be a businessman, you stand in the back and look stupid and threatening. Maybe grunt a little.” Aware that he may have pushed this _slightly_ too far, he holds his hands up and grins.

Even though he's listened, Stakar does not get it. Stakar takes a deep breath, gets way into Yondu's personal space and says, “Listen here, you overconfident, insubordinate little shit-” and that's when one of the chinless brats of this fine noble house strides around the corner and sees them standing about three inches apart in a secluded garden nook that they really shouldn't have access to. Yondu considers, for a moment, pulling Stakar in all the way and pretending like they were making out, but judging by the look on Stakar's face right now he's pretty sure he'd get his lips bitten off. And, really, Yondu's so far out of his league that it wouldn't be believable anyway.

They shoot the guy instead, before he can yell.

* * *

 

So that, right there, is a clean infiltration cancelled. They haven't been _caught_ caught, and there was a silencer on the blaster, but it's only a matter of time before someone figures out that this guy didn't turn up to his appointment to burn units in front of homeless people, or whatever it is rich people do for fun around here. So they're just straight up sneaking in, both of them embarrassed and pissed off at how badly things are going so far, hoping they can get this over with and leave, and Yondu can get his ship back and never work with Stakar again, because clearly whatever kind of partnership they may have had is just gone forever now. It's been too long, there's too much bad blood, they've hurt each other too many times to ever regain maybe _any_ kind of bond, never mind the one they used to have.

Yondu follows Stakar along the dusty maintenance corridor, aware that in any other circumstance he would be stomping, and tells himself that he doesn't care about any of that. That he doesn't miss the easy push-and-pull of their old partnership, where they would have gently bickered about piloting and fought over the music, where Stakar would have bitched about being the bodyguard but Yondu would have been able to convince him, where when Stakar unconsciously offered him one of the beasties he was eating as he fiddled with the lock on the door to the family vault, Yondu would have laughed and called him over-sentimental, flirted with him jokingly (or maybe not-so-jokingly, depending on who was around) and they would have gone on with their damn lives and got the job done.

Where Yondu would not have frozen up in horror, and Stakar would not have pulled his hand back like it had been burned, and the goddamn fucking entire universe would not have aligned to make their bad day worse by sending a security patrol right as they were absorbed in staring at each other like a pair of mute idiots. Right as the lock clicks open, too. Ain't that just the way.

* * *

 

The door to the vault opens under Stakar's shoulder as he ploughs into it. It's a good thing he has the presence of mind to bring Yondu.

The vault is _full_ of shiny things. If this job hadn't gone so horribly fucking wrong from start to goddamn ...mid-point, actually, Yondu would be rolling around in all of it by now. He's done it before. It's fun, especially the look on Stakar's face when he takes his shirt off.

Speaking of Stakar, even though Yondu would rather not do that right now, he's managed to flip a table of fancy masks (stolen from some indigenous planetbound folks, most likely) and dragged himself and Yondu behind it. Yondu is practically on his lap, and his flailing to dislodge himself nearly leads to the fin being shot off (and oh boy does he not want to go through that again), so it looks like he's stuck there.

“Nice work, _point man_ ,” Stakar grumbles in his ear, and oh, Yondu is _not_ going to sit here and take this.

“I'm not the one who took so long on the lock!” He hisses back, trying to get a sense through the thick walls of where everyone he's gonna have to kill is.

“I'm not the one who froze up!” Stakar says, temper making his voice slightly louder, and really, Yondu's gotta keep up with this volume war, so his next contribution is a little louder than that, even.

“I'm not the one who threw a tantrum about having to play a slightly embarrassing role in a deception!”

“I'm- You were trying to humiliate me and you know it, Udonta,” Stakar snarls, and yeah, okay, Yondu _was_ , but he had a plausible excuse, so Stakar can just bite him, as Quill would say. (Yondu took him up on that once. The comedy wasn't worth the screaming.)

“You've been out to get me this whole job! Nothing I've done has been good enough for you, even though you would let _anyone else_ get away with piloting, you would have gone along with _anyone else's_ stupid bodyguard plan, you would have trusted anyone else!”

“Yondu,” Stakar says warningly, but Yondu is on this flight path now, it's locked in and he couldn't change it if he tried. If he even wanted to.

“We're in this fucking mess because we couldn't do the infiltration. You know why we couldn't do the infiltration? Because you, on your own stupid flarking bonding exercise, decided that you were too proud to listen to my ideas. Because you _didn't listen_. You never do! Everything bad that's happened has been because _you didn't listen to me, and_ **-”**

"I **_KNOW_**!" Stakar roars, and both of them realise at the same time that oh boy, they're not talking about the mission anymore, are they?

It's time to actually do it. Pressed together in some rich jerk family's vault, surrounded by shinies and under heavy fire, they're gonna have The Conversation that Yondu has dreamed (sometimes literally) of having for the past 26 years. And Stakar has just tentatively taken it in what Yondu's brain had deemed the "fuck you, Udonta, not gonna happen" direction.

"I know, Yondu," Stakar says again, quieter but so much heavier. "There's a lot I shoulda done."

His vicious, cutting, well-practiced words, the ones that were going to make Stakar speechless and ashamed and _sorry_ for fucking Yondu over like this, dry up on his tongue. All he manages to say is "Yeah."

"I shoulda taught you better," Stakar continues. "Made sure you _knew_ the code."

"Learned from you well enough," Yondu says quietly.

"Shoulda been harder on you. Or softer on you. Either way, I shoulda been _consistent_."

Yondu shrugs because yeah, probably he should have been, but young Yondu had never minded. Young Yondu had excelled in pushing the rules but still getting results, at striding home from places he should never have been in the first place, covered in glory (and many, many shiny things) and talking his way out of discipline. Young Yondu had thought Stakar would forgive him _anything_.

"Shoulda looked into just what the hell you thought you were doing sooner. Shoulda called you out. Shoulda been someone you could _trust_."

"Shoulda let me explain," Yondu cuts in. "Shouldn't have just overridden me and exiled me and _ruined my life_. Shoulda listened to me."

Stakar is silent for a moment. "...Yeah," he says. "Shoulda done that."

There's a long, uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by one or both of them shooting whatever smart bastard thinks he can come closer and ruin their big emotional moment this time.

"I shoulda looked into it sooner," Yondu says finally. "Didn't want to believe someone would _lie_ about wanting their kids like that. Didn't want to believe he'd go to all that effort to get 'em back just to hurt 'em. I- I thought they were gonna be okay." If he hits any more sentiment right now he's gonna do something embarrassing, so he just shuts his fool mouth.

Stakar looks at him for a long moment, reloading his blaster. “That shiny new fin of yours give us any edge on what's coming?”

Yondu, slightly thrown by the change in subject, thinks about it. “Not a ton. There's a _lot_ of people coming, I know that much-”

“And they'll be calling others for backup.” Stakar adds.

“Right, and coming in from every direction, and without some kind of visual reference I'm gonna have a hard time whistling 'em all.”

Stakar's eyes roll very slightly up and to the right, in the way Yondu knows is his 'remembering important shit' face. “There's a panic button- a literal button- down in the study, and a ventilation shaft that should lead us there. I know **we** can't get there, but if I give you directions and distances-”

“Got it,” Yondu says instantly, already pursing his lips to whistle. As an afterthought, he presses his blaster into Stakar's other hand. Not like he uses it.

When the blast doors slam down, blocking off all but the emergency entrances and exits, they decapitate one poor unfortunate soul, and take the arm off another. Stakar takes advantage of the confusion to start shooting. Yondu takes advantage of the confusion to start gathering up everything this family has ever found valuable enough to lock away, and also to whistle his arrow back through the vents, up past his shoulder and into the head of a grunt aiming at Stakar's back.

Stakar doesn't acknowledge it, but then Yondu doesn't expect him to. They're on a job, locked in and focused on the moment together, and they don't need to be thanking each other for things they both knew they'd do. Yondu packs up, whistling himself a happy little tune, and Stakar shoots (a blaster in each hand like a _total badass_ ) and plans their escape route in his head, moving fluidly out of the way of the arrow with no fear of anticipating Yondu's directions wrongly, and it's so easy now, as easy as breathing. As easy as it always was.

“Left hallway!” Yondu says sharply. Without even nodding, Stakar makes the hand signal that means 'bomb'. Yondu tosses a grenade at his back. Stakar catches it without even turning round, primes it and throws it down the hallway straight into an entire regiment of approaching guards

And that, it seems, is that. Yondu joins Stakar in the hallway, stepping on a couple of smoking corpses on the way, and looks around at their handiwork. Stakar shifts to let them stand back-to-back, and it reminds Yondu of something.

“Hey,” he says, grinning. “We're just like, uh, Starkly and Crate.”

“Who?”

“Legendary Earth crimefighters, Quill told me about them.” Stakar makes an amused noise, and another one when Yondu elbows him. “They're badasses, best friends,” (and Yondu nearly freezes here but carries on because fuck that, he's not compounding saying something so stupid by _apologising for it_ and besides, it used to be true) “always perfectly in-sync. Wear sunglasses, too.”

“We... don't have sunglasses,” Stakar says slowly, and the delight at him _playing along_ is going to make Yondu float away. “And we're not crimefighters.”

“No, but- most of the rest of it's accurate.”

Stakar hmms, leaning forward to pull something off the floor. When he comes back, he holds a pair of sunglasses over his shoulder. “Squad leader had 'em.”

Yondu's smile could split his face.

* * *

 

They still have to sneak out again, but it's way easier now the tension is gone and they're smirking at each other like kids and moving around each other instinctively, instead of ignoring each other's cues as hard as possible. They step out into the night air and get to cover, standing on a hill a fair distance from the place and watching the chaos erupting inside.

“Pulling off a job like this,” Yondu says casually, “Getting through a day like this, I think we deserve a reward. A nice personal one.”

“We have had a _very_ bad day,” Stakar agrees. “It's only fair that we get to have some fun to make up for it. Relieve some tension.”

“See something pretty,” Yondu presses.

“Like an explosion?” Stakar keeps his eyes on the house, as ships from every security company this family employs- and wow, there's a lot of them- fly in and land in their own private shipyard. Who even has their own private shipyard? They were asking for someone to come in and relieve them of all this wealth.

“Like an explosion. Place is remote enough we shouldn't get too much attention right away.”

“We could do an explosion. Timing's gotta be right, though.” Yondu knows Stakar, knows how much work he puts into every job he dedicates himself to. Stakar knows exactly how many people will be arriving, and he's waiting for all of them.

“Also have to figure out how to set it off,” Yondu says wistfully. “For something really big, we'd have to have thought ahead and put something in there.”

“Like a lifetime's supply of thermite and plastic explosives?” Stakar asks, casually pulling a detonator out of his pocket.

“ _Exactly_ like that,” Yondu sighs happily. “You seriously planted the stuff already?”

“Paid a maintenance guy to do it before we got here.” Stakar rolls the detonator around in his hand as one final ship arrives and the people in it swarm into the house like insects. “That's all of 'em. Let's go.”

Yondu could kiss him. Instead, he _whistles_. His arrow lights up, and goes screeching back through the corridors as Stakar directs him through it, to the thermite nestled cozily around all those beautiful flammable things. Stakar counts under his breath, then grins sharply, wildly, and presses the button on his detonator, and Yondu brings his arrow back as shit starts to go down.

The explosion is really pretty. Prettier even than Yondu thought it was going to be. It happens in stages, the reactors going up first and making almost a thudding noise. Then it spreads, the thermite sending fire billowing through the halls and air vents, blowing out of windows and licking up walls. Every so often the fire will start to die down, and then there will be another explosion, usually in a new and exciting colour, and every time there is Stakar laughs to himself. He must have had some more stuff hidden around the place.

“It's nearly done now,” Stakar says to him. “Fire's reaching the attic, and the best stuff is in there.”

Some nameless security goon bursts out of the house, screaming, on fire. Yondu shows some mercy and puts his arrow through the guy's head. “We should turn around for the big one,” he says, remembering something.

“...You said you wanted to see the explosion,” Stakar says, sounding perplexed, and possibly a little hurt.

“I do, but cool guys don't look at explosions.” Quill had told him that once, while they were all proudly admiring a great explosion, and Yondu had shoved him off the wall he was walking along into a bush, but he'd always remembered it. And they really have been so cool today.

Stakar looks sidelong at him. “It's your mission, I guess,” he says. “We can get a head start on escaping.”

So they turn around, Yondu sliding his sunglasses onto his face and pretending he can see through them, and slowly walk away. His arrow comes back to him and Yondu catches it in his hand, and behind them the roof of the house blows off as the whole thing goes up. And neither of them look back.

Frankly, it's awesome.

* * *

 

They take Stakar's M-ship (Stakar, in a concession to his shit piloting skills, agrees to let Yondu fly this time) to a remote moon on the edge of this solar system. It used to be a prison colony, but there was some kind of legal battle about a century ago (that Stakar tries to give him a lecture about, but Yondu is too busy playing a song about the eye of some kind of earth animal to care) that gave it independence and also a remarkable tolerance for Ravagers. So they're safe here while they wait for Stakar's ship to get within M-ship range.

Turns out it's some kinda festival season here. Stakar again tries to explain it to him, Yondu again doesn't care, so Stakar gives him a quick rundown of what not to do (and listen okay you know what, Yondu doesn't even WANT to piss on any relics here, he's not INTERESTED, so **_bite him_** , aaaand it turns out Stakar is teasing him) and then just kind of stands there. Awkwardly. Which is a strange look on Stakar.

“I'm gonna... I'm hungry,” he says. “Dropped my Beasties when the shooting started.”

Yondu laughs at him. “I didn't even _bring_ food,” he brags. “Too professional.”

Stakar rolls his eyes. “I'm gonna find food. Gotta be something we can eat in all these stalls. Want me to-” and Yondu can _see_ him cut off the “get you something” in that same kind of horror from earlier. He's expecting Yondu to freeze up again. But Yondu is better than that.

“Nah,” he says instead. “You'd probably forget all the shit that poisons me. I'll find something myself.”

Stakar nods, and turns away without another word.

He watches Stakar's retreating back, hunched a little in a way that makes him look smaller, and a whole lotta memories pass through Yondu all at once, like one of those montages Quill says happen at significant moments in a man's life.

(Stakar, sitting in front of Yondu, who at the time is this wild-eyed disbelieving Kree battle slave, in a dimly-lit room aboard his ship, ignoring the things broken and strewn across the place in a (futile) search for a weapon, pushing a bowl of unidentifiable gruel across the floor at him.

Stakar, taking the bowl back, eating some himself, wincing at the taste in a way Yondu will later snicker at because of Stakar's unexpectedly prissy refined palate, pushing it back.

Stakar, slowly and deliberately reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket, producing some kind of sweet treat Yondu will eventually find out is the guy's _favourite food ever_ , taking a bite to prove its safety, and handing it over again.

Stakar, watching Yondu suspiciously bite into it and then shove the rest of it into his mouth so fast he nearly chokes, with the approving smile and nod that even then makes Yondu's chest seize up.

Stakar spending weeks with Yondu, casually passing food back and forth, between shooting lessons and flying lessons and reading lessons and memorising the Ravager code together.

Yondu trying to share his lunch with Stakar over and over in the canteen, being quietly told _not now, Yondu_ , Aleta's eyes on the both of them.

Yondu, months later, finding out from some other Ravagers what that _means_ to them, how incredibly _intimate_ and _trusting_ it is, and feeling his face heat up until it's navy.

Yondu practically slapping Stakar's next offering out of his hand, snapping at him to not be such a sentimental weirdo, watching him fold the wrapper back together and put it back in his pocket, because as Yondu will come to know, being rejected like that makes your stomach shrivel up and die like it doesn't want anything to eat ever again.

Yondu, after the exile, finding a whole box of those _dumb fucking sweet rolls_ in a warehouse they're ransacking, and throwing them out of the window and into the river because his first thought is 'hey, Stakar will really love these' and he can't handle that now. Or ever again.)

Yondu groans and hits his head against the wall a couple of times, the fin clonking off it in a way that might actually leave dents in the soft wood, and trudges off to find the cheapest, crappiest food stall he can find.

* * *

 

He's sitting on a bench overlooking the town, watching the lights for whatever shitty festival they're celebrating here blinking on one by one. He's holding a single slice of bread. There's no point in getting anything more, because no matter what happens, it's not like he's gonna be _eating_ it.

And... This is a big risk. The only alternative to the best case scenario is utter public humiliation. The _worst case_ scenario is utter public humiliation, a little slip of Yondu's legendary self-control, and an arrow straight through Stakar's head. It's possible that, maybe, Yondu is a little nervous about what's going to happen. Maybe he doesn't want to look that serious about it. So here he is. With his bread. _Not_ looking out for Stakar.

Stakar comes up behind him with a little humming noise that basically means "hey it's me don't shoot" in Ravager language, and looks down at Yondu's bread in amusement. "Not hungry?" He asks.

Yondu shrugs, keeping his eyes firmly on the booths being erected. Ooh, some of them have prizes. At least if this goes bad he'll be able to cheat his way into some shiny things before he goes back to the ship and loses his mind.

Stakar sits next to him, his knee almost touching Yondu's even though they're not sitting that close to one another, because when he's relaxed and Aleta isn't around, Stakar manspreads like he's getting _paid_ for it. Yondu takes a deep breath and shoves the bread over to him without saying a word, and waits. There's an impact and a faint "ow". Yondu might have punched him in the head with it. Oops. And then there is a long, long silence.

It's probably only a few seconds, but Yondu is big enough to admit that he's impatient, and even a pause that long is enough to have hurt and insecurity and rage bubbling up inside him, the insults and accusations springing to his lips without him even having to try, the urge to hurl this _stupid bread_ into orbit and whistle it through overwhelming-

There's a slight tug, and Stakar takes it out of his hand.

Yondu doesn't look at him still, too interested in the lights and sounds of the games being set up below, but something soothes and settles in his chest, and he finds himself having to consciously not smile. A small voice in the back of his head is telling him that it's actually kind of pathetic, being so desperate for Stakar's approval that Stakar _taking some bread from him_ is making his whole day, but that voice shuts right the hell up when there's a little nudge at his elbow and the fanciest fucking sandwich Yondu has _ever seen_ is getting pushed into his field of vision.

He looks out of the corner of his eye. Stakar is studying the fair too, but there's a softness around his eyes and a tugging at the side of his mouth. He looks, in fact, exactly like he did the first time Yondu uncertainly took a bite out of a yaro root and then shoved it in his direction.

They both slouch on the bench, Yondu mimicking Stakar's pose so their knees knock against each other properly, and chow down.  Yondu thinks smugly that he got the better end of this deal. Stakar's sandwich is delicious and fancy as all hell, exactly what Yondu likes (which is _different_ to what Stakar likes, he'll reluctantly think later), and Stakar is stuck with a slice of slightly stale bread.

(What? So he got it from clearance. He wasn't wasting any more money than he had to.)

He grins widely at Stakar, completely ignoring everything Stakar has ever told him about chewing with his mouth closed. Stakar doesn't even bother to look disgusted. He's nibbling on that shitty slice of bread like he wants to savour it (which he might, it's not like he's gonna get anything _else_ to eat until they get back to ship), looking at Yondu in a way Yondu can only categorise as 'soft'.

They still don't say anything. They don't need to. Yondu kicks Stakar's ankle gently, and Stakar kicks back, and the lights below them flash as they wait for their ride home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So uhhhhhhhhh that's my story.
> 
> (The fun headcanons come from the good people of the 99th, who know exactly who they are.)


End file.
